


Hopeless Wanderers

by Megalohdon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), All characters are OF AGE., Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Character's name spelled as Yuuri, Except it's mainly in space, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Passengers AU, Really it's loosely based off the movie, Slow Burn, Think of a combination between Passengers/Wall-E/Titanic., Victuuri is the main ship in this fic but anything can happen!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-08 04:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10378578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalohdon/pseuds/Megalohdon
Summary: “What exactly are you getting at, here?”“I think you should give it a shot, Yuuri. It’d be a good opportunity for you, after all. I remember when you were little how bad you wanted mom and dad to move out to a colony Starship like that. You always said you wanted to live among the stars, because Earth didn’t have enough room for the amount of potential you had.” The smile on her lips is soft, a gentle urging of him to at least consider her stance, and he’s forced to shove his bowl of rice to the side so he can rest his elbows on top of the table and square his shoulders better. Present yourself as confident, Yuuri. Stand up for yourself.“I was young then, Mari. I grew out of fantasies like that. I know things like this are expensive, I won’t try to even argue that it’s not. I know better. I’m also, if you forgot, unemployed. Even if I wanted to do this, I couldn’t afford it.”-------------At twenty six, Yuuri Katsuki becomes desperate after being let go to find purpose in his life. After his sister suggests he makes a permanent move to the Starship colony Caelestis, he meets longtime idol and retired glider Viktor Nikiforov. Can two wayward souls out in space find their purpose in each other?





	1. Prologue: Serenity

                Opportunity.

                An opportunity is a presented situation which gives you the chance to make something possible; the chance to take the reins of fate and steer yourself to a better future. Opportunities are blessings guised under choice, an escape from the darkness rattling your nerves. It’s that exit to greener pastures, a salute to the person you used to be, and a warm hello to the person you can become. For some, opportunities present themselves in neat bows in the filtering sunlight through the dusty windows that kept the sunrises out, for others they’re shoved in their faces with the force of a retaliatory right hook that knocks them back hard enough that they have to take a second look at the situation.

                In the case of Yuuri Katsuki, opportunity presented itself to him in November of 2491 in the shape of an ad on the television, a promise of new horizons in the undiscovered valleys of space. Unemployed, grieving, and desperate, a man of twenty six years would take any chance given to be more than what he was. Even Yuuri knew better than to turn his back on such whispered vows of a better life.

                His future was on board the Starship Caelestis, that’s what the advertisement said. For those with purchasable skills or masters of trades, their tickets into a new beginning were prorated because, for once, they were _needed_. A societal necessity in the growth and development of the community that surrounded them. Unlike on Earth, so densely overpopulated and polluted with the high society swagger that made the scholars and handymen of the world invalid and unnecessary, he was _desirable_. Someone, a company or curious soul be damned, wanted the skills he had paid the hard earned money of his parents for.

                Yuuri Katsuki was a Linguistics graduate of Cornell University in New York, fluent in four languages and ever willing to travel the world and teach others of spoken tongues but managed to seclude himself into a small cubicle on the thirteenth floor of the Carmichael Enterprises sky rise with a title of agent of foreign affairs and certificates that he pinned to the walls to either side of him that put more nails in the coffin of his career. He wasn’t going anywhere, not at this rate, not translating arguments between his bosses and their competition in the meeting rooms at four in the afternoon every Wednesday.

                He wasn’t going to be anybody when he became unemployed, let go from the company when Zeta Yaw, a colonization corporation of all things, bought them out. They didn’t need a then twenty-five year old Japanese man who could explain their business positions to other people that didn’t understand English. No one argued with colonization groups, it wasn’t worthwhile. They were doing good things for the human race, going out to barren planets with willing souls who wanted to get away from it all and expanding the human hold on this galaxy and five over. There wasn’t anyone opting to talk out against companies that helped take out the brunt of the overpopulation problems by moving them light years away to places with bluer skies and greener pastures. They had room to breathe, and it was one hell of a profitable field to go into.

                So, no, of course they didn’t need a nobody graduate from the Linguistics program of Cornell.

                His parents, bless their kindly souls, never held him in contempt when he finally came back home after seven years of staying away; seven years of trying to prove himself to his family and show that he was somebody, that the money they gave him to go to school wasn’t a waste because he could pay them back in full and then some (for their troubles) and he could live a comfortable life doing something he excelled at without relying on his family to hold him up. His room was, for the most part, unchanged, the old posters on his walls from his glider days still kept themselves up under the hold of the clear tacks he had bought at the corner mart one day after school in fifth grade, and his bed was still made with the same blanket that cocooned him through his midnight panic attacks in high school.

                With a suitcase in tow and a duffle bag falling from his shoulder, it suddenly struck him that the only thing that didn’t belong in _his_ room was the man he had become.

                After two days of self-preservation by hold himself captive in his room his mother finally breeched the wall of silence he had put up. Her knock was quiet, footsteps even more so as she shuffled softly to his side. Instinctively he curled up tighter in himself, arms locked around his torso to block out intruders from easy access to tearing his heart right out from his chest, and his mother could only coo at him under her breath as she reached a warm hand out to brush his hair back that had branded itself in his memories as a touch of comfort and care in a dark and cruel world. His mother was always that beacon of hope in his life when things seemed to turn south; so, with a sigh and muttered curses into his pillow, he turned himself over, placed his head in his lap, and let himself break down his walls for once.

                She didn’t speak up to him as he wept into her uniform, she knew as well as he did that words wasn’t what he needed. Right then, in the quiet of his room while the moonlight poured through the blinds over his window, all he needed was the comfort of his mother’s hold as he mourned the loss of his career and future.

                The only chance he had at paying his family back.

* * *

 

                “You know, if you need help looking through the classifieds or something, I’ll sit down with you, bro. I hate seeing you miserable like this, especially when it’s in the form of bed head and dried slobber all over the left side of your face,” Mari commented, smirking over her cup of coffee as she closely eyeballed his bowl of rice that he was making slow work of. His own eyes of cinnamon whiskey glinted under the lights of the common room, gaze locked squarely on his sister’s lingering stare as he muttered back at her through a mouth full of food, “I doubt Hasetsu is going to have anything for me, Mari, you know that. I love this place, don’t get me wrong, but we’re not exactly aching for a Linguist around here.”

                “Maybe not, but at least _something_ is better than you sitting here and wallowing in self-pity. You realize mom and dad aren’t mad, right?”

                A loaded question. Of course he knew, that made sense, there hadn’t been a day in his life that his parents had ever genuinely been angry or disappointed in him. Why they would start now over him getting laid off would be a complete mystery to both Katsuki children, but his racing mind and coiling anxiety told him otherwise. How could they not be mad? Over seven million yen a year for him to come back home empty handed and unemployed was bound to make anyone mad. His parents had every right to be upset.

                “Yeah, I know.”

                “Do you?” A penetrating and calculative stare found itself boring into the top of his head as he bowed down to keep her eyes off his face. She knew him well after twenty six years of having her little brother in her life, and even with seven years of him making his name in America Mari knew exactly how to read him. It was something she had always prided herself in, that secret sisterly talent she never clued him in on when a curious six year old Yuuri had asked how she _always_ knew.

                “I do, yeah. I know that I want to think they’re mad, and maybe a part of me thinks this whole situation would be easier if they were, but I don’t know what it could take for me to honestly disappoint them save for the unsavory illegal activities I don’t even have the backbone to talk about.”

                The younger sibling offers an honest and open answer, one of the first instances since his return home that he has willingly let someone in enough to explain how his anxiety is acting up in the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t a well-kept secret in the Katsuki household; Yuuri’s anxiety ran rampant and he never openly brought it up outside of allusions to how he felt, and his family was sharp enough to pick up on the clues. They knew, but like all demons, it was always easier to tackle without acknowledging it directly. It was hard enough to struggle with anxiety at such a young age to begin with, let alone admitting to himself that he actually had a problem.

                So he never faced it head on, just coped and figured himself out as the years drug on and his anxiety festered in the shadows of his neglect. It was manageable now, but still a snarling beast that kept his rationale from reasoning with him at the best of times.

                Mari doesn’t comment at that, just grunts in an affirmation and goes back to watching the morning news over his shoulder so he can finish his meal in peace. He appreciates the reprieve and quiet, the droning of the anchors behind him lulling him into a false serenity. Even in the throes of unemployment, being home always helped ease an aching heart. The younger sibling hardly recognizes his sister shoving his shoulder before he’s blinking twice and focusing back on the way her mouth forms the words she’s directing at him, “Hey, bro, look at the television for me, yeah? You should see this.”

                “Why? It’s not another one of those skeptics’ interviews, is it?”

                She snorts, undignified, and covers her mouth with her right hand, “No, it’s not. You know, people seemed to give up on questioning the colonies after you left. I’ve got a feeling you were feeding them propaganda from your window in the middle of the night.”

                “Ah, yes, my signature Katsuki anti-colonization window sermons. People came from far and wide to hear some of my words of wisdom.”

                “Oh yes, your wise one, I recall. But, no, this isn’t a product of your masterful intuition. Just look.”

                The smile on his lips is infallible, but he doesn’t argue with his elder and twists his torso so he can level his gaze with the television across the room. She had the broadcast paused on a lingering frame of an advertisement, the tale tell sigil of Zeta Yaw taunting him square in the middle of the screen. Of course it was about his job, how could it not have been, considering their early conversation? “Mari,” he starts, but she moves the hand from her lips into the air between them to shush him, points one slender digit back to the screen, and encourages him to focus again.

                “Just watch, trust me. It’s not what you think it is.”

                A low sigh presses its way past his pursed lips, but he relents and refocuses his gaze back at the screen as he hears his sister shuffling behind him a bit and pressing play on the remote.

                _“Earth can only hold its charm for so long, the enchantment necessary for it to hold the interest of its citizens is whittling itself away by the day. Are you one of the millions of wayward souls looking for something more than our Home Base can offer? Zeta Yaw, Colonization experts since 2254, is opening up a brand new opportunity in exploration with the maiden voyage of the Starship Caelestis. Come join us and thousands of other curious souls, such as yourself, as we set out in a mobile colony destined for the galactic quadrant Crux Orion. If your future lies beneath the stars, then contact Zeta Yaw with inquiries regarding package deals.”_

                Their taunting hum of a slogan rings in his ears as he turns to face Mari again, one who was wearing a smug look on her face as he eyeballed her cautiously. What was she implying here? That he pack himself up and move to the Crux Orion out of desperation? Or was she simply mocking him because this company was the entire reason he was living out of his suitcase in his childhood bedroom?

                “What exactly are you getting at, here?”

                “I think you should give it a shot, Yuuri. It’d be a good opportunity for you, after all. I remember when you were little how bad you wanted mom and dad to move out to a colony Starship like that. You always said you wanted to live among the stars, because Earth didn’t have enough room for the amount of potential you had.” The smile on her lips is soft, a gentle urging of him to at least consider her stance, and he’s forced to shove his bowl of rice to the side so he can rest his elbows on top of the table and square his shoulders better. _Present yourself as confident, Yuuri. Stand up for yourself._

                “I was young then, Mari. I grew out of fantasies like that. I know things like this are expensive, I won’t try to even argue that it’s not. I know better. I’m also, if you forgot, unemployed. Even if I _wanted_ to do this, I couldn’t afford it.”

                “Yuuri, I really think you should consider this. You’re going to struggle to find something to settle into here, and you know as well as I do you’re not going to be happy with whatever you get. Ever since your accident you’ve given up on doing things because _you_ wanted to do them. Everything you’ve done since you turned sixteen was out of sheer convenience. It was always because it was easy, and you’re miserable now.”

                “I’m not miserable, sis, I’m just. In a rough spot, I guess? I’m not where I want to be in life, but I can get there. I just need time.”

                She slides forward on the table, hands reaching out to take his in her own and he doesn’t have the willpower in him to stop her from doing as she pleases as she looks him over with a frown, “Look, kiddo, I know you better than you want to think I do. And this,” she muses, releasing one of her hands from his to gesture at him with a wave, “isn’t happy. You won’t be happy if you keep just settling. Take a risk every once in a while, fight for yourself, Yuuri.”

                Her expression is desperate, pleading, and his willpower to argue sheds itself away sliver by sliver the longer he holds her gaze. He knows she wants the best for him, he knows his whole family does. That’s all they have ever wanted; since he had his accident as a young glider that scarred him enough from pursuing the sport professionally, giving up on that dream without a second thought. Not even the prospect of performing on the same field as _the_ Viktor Nikiforov, glider legend in his own right, was enough to keep him steady on the path that he had wanted.

                And Mari knew that.

                “I am fight-”

                “You’re not, Yuuri. You’re running away again, and you know that. You’re waiting for something easy, something safe to crawl its way into your life so you can continue to pretend that you’re happy doing these temporary things for temporary companies. You know you’re not happy. These aren’t risks, you’re just settling. Go out on the Caelestis. Make a name for yourself, be somebody. Dammit, Yuuri, just be _happy._ That’s all we ever wanted for you.”

                “I know it is. I know you guys just want me to be happy, and I promise I’m trying. I really am.”

                His sister withdraws her hands from his, moving to cradle her coffee again as she mulls over his words for a few quiet minutes to herself. Did she believe him? He wasn’t being dishonest, not really at least. He was trying to be better, to be happier now. Even if that meant settling for whatever job came his way, he’d take it, if that meant he wouldn’t be a burden to his family.

                A disappointment.

                “Level with me for a minute, Yuuri. Can you do that?”

                _Blink._

                “Sure? Go ahead.”

                Mari drags her mug to her lips, taking a long swig of her early morning cup of tar before she’s comfortable enough with where she is mentally to continue on talking to her little brother, “Just think about it. You don’t have to make a decision today, but think about it. If not for yourself, for me. And mom and dad. Talk to all of us later tonight, okay? We’ll have a serious discussion about this, list out all the pros and cons, and then you can decide what you want to do, okay? Can you do that much for me?”

                He pauses for a beat, shaking fingers twitching in his lap now as his eyes drag over to the far wall behind her head. It was as close to eye contact she was getting as he weighed her offer in his head, and judging by the halfhearted groan that escaped from her lips, she knew that too.

                “Okay, I’ll think about it. We can all sit down and talk about it after dinner. Weigh my options and go from there. I’ll do that much, but _no_ promises here, Mari.”

                “Nah, of course not, I know how you work. But, I will say, word on the street is Nikiforov is going.”

* * *

 

                Bright eyed and inspired, a twelve year old Yuuri Katsuki found himself staring hard at the television in the common room of Katsuki Yu-topia with small fists balled up in his lap and shouts of endearment being thrown out haphazardly at the screen. On it, illuminated in the darkness by the fluctuating lights embedded into the soft mesh of his bodysuit, Viktor Nikiforov, a spry sixteen year old glider who was well on his way to a clean competitive sweep this year, clapped his hands together to release the gravitational hold in the performer’s arena. That was what this was all about; acrobatic performances in the anti-gravity chambers built on Earth by humans with far too much ambition and not enough gusto to venture out and take the competition to the stars.

                No, no. Gliding was the way the citizens of Earth got a taste of the luxurious life the colonial Starships were gifted on a daily basis. Stellar performances in the dark, costumes with bright LED strips curling around the curves of each performer in intricate patterns and designs that only accentuated their stories. These were the performers who brought the galaxy to earth, created other worldly stories for profit and became stars in more ways than one.

                Viktor, ever elegant in his spin sequences as he danced on the stage, greens and blues rolling off his darkened flesh, draws the audience in with a haunting ballad that echoed through the speakers and exaggerated sweeps of his arms. He’s inviting them in, inviting _Yuuri_ in, and even if his words of encouragement aren’t needed (of course they aren’t, it’s _Viktor,_ Viktor doesn’t need encouragement to be great) he still gives them away freely as if they were all he had to give.

                At twelve, that was all that he did have. It was all that connected him to this sport, this performance.

                To Viktor.

                His parents relented when he pleaded to try on his own, eyes wide with desperation because this is what he needed. He absolutely _had_ to become a glider, did they see the way Viktor moved? The way the audience followed his performances as if it was the gospel truth, a prayer whispered in the way his body twisted in the air. Viktor was a work of art, and he was somebody.

                Yuuri wanted to be somebody too, somebody like Viktor. His equal, his competitor, his friend.

                So his parents bought him his first training suit, cuffs thrown in by the shop owner himself when she looked at the way Yuuri clutched the mesh fabric to himself as if it was a lifeline, an anchor to the reality he was living in. His white knuckles trembled with excitement, his brow damp with sweat as he stared up at his father as he pulled swiped his ID band over the reader.

                _There are credits in there. Millions of yen. Everything we have to our name. It’s all in that band. It’s paying for the suit in my hands, and the cuffs on the counter. It’s giving me a future. It’s giving me a chance. I won’t let him down._

                “Take the cuffs, no charge. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a bright eyed youngster like him come in here looking to join the gliders. We get so many young adults trying to make a clean break into riches, you know? It’s so uncommon we get someone in who genuinely cares about the art behind the sport.”

                Oh, and care he did. It was hard not to, when people like Viktor Nikiforov were making names for themselves at sixteen years of age, creating art with the ways their bodies moved and bent without the restrictions of gravity. It was hard for Yuuri, the youngest Katsuki child who held an impressive record of two friends, to feel worthwhile, but seeing any glider performance reached right out to him and shook him to his core.

                Gliding was his calling, he knew that.

                This was how he’d become somebody.

                Four years after, an awkward, bumbling sixteen year old Yuuri stumbled his way arena side and clutched tightly to the boards as his overseer secured his cuffs on his wrists and ankles. It wasn’t his first performance, far from it, but having finally been certified by the Japanese Gliding Federation he was allowed to start performing in the senior division.

                The same division Viktor was in. The same glider who was performing last in Yuuri’s debut senior competition. The very man who, just hours ago, had turned to Yuuri, all false smiles and echoing words as he greeted the up and coming youngster with a resounding, “Commemorative photo? Sure!”

                And, sure, that should have been Yuuri’s first clue. It should have been the first sign that he wasn’t made to be a glider, wasn’t meant to make it in this field, but he persisted anyway. Those words should have been enough to dissuade him from performing, but he tugged on his skin tight body suit and tested the lighting functions and let his coach prep his cuffs at the boards anyways, because maybe Viktor was having an off day. Maybe he had a reason not to know the names of the people he was competing with, maybe it kept _him_ clear of mind.

                Maybe it had nothing to do with how memorable a young Yuuri may or may not be.

                But it should have.

                He felt the shockwave five seconds before the cuffs reacted, and the eyes he had sealed shut in the darkness of the chamber peeled open and looked closely at the pulsating lights on his wrists and ankles. A gravitational reactor pulse had completely fried his cuffs, and as it stood he was stranded in the middle of the chamber mid performance in the dark.

                Yuuri should have taken a hint earlier, when Viktor’s eyes flited over him in unfamiliarity, and backed out of the competition. He shouldn’t have entered the arena when his anxiety gnawed away at his consciousness while his overseer checked his cuffs.

                Stranded in the middle of the chamber, with the arena lights flickering on and off outside, he trembled.

                The audience had hushed their shouts of encouragement, quiet murmurs of concern started up from behind him as the power continued to go in and out. The officials couldn’t even make their way out to retrieve him like this, seeing as the chamber doors had securely locked themselves once the anti-gravity had turned itself off, and with malfunctioned cuffs he couldn’t turn it back off. Not out of his own volition, at least.

                Fate has a funny way of acting up; drawing in victims of desperation and latching on like a leech to their enthusiasm as it presents itself as desirable. Yuuri had fallen for it, desperate to be more than the youngest member of the Katsuki family that couldn’t hold down a friendship with anyone outside of Yuuko and Takeshi, the boy who made average grades and had average ideas. No, Yuuri craved to be special, like the gliders, wearing gold around his neck like he was born to be a winner.

                But one last shockwave from the reactor had the antigravity chamber trembling long enough to blow the fuses in engine below. He _felt_ the power drain, slowly, from the air around him, and with a split second of clarity Yuuri curled into himself tightly before the chamber completely shut down and unceremoniously dropped the newcomer down ten feet to the arena floor.

                He lost consciousness upon impact, and (as far as he was concerned) thankfully forgot most of the preceding events afterwards. He had broken his ankle, a clean split in his lower tibia that splintered and kept him out for the rest of the competitive season. His overseer had pressured him to take out charges against the arena owners, but he held no ill will towards them for the accident. After all, they paid for his medical bills on their own accord after the accident, and had promised to shut the arena down indefinitely until repairs had taken place and a proper investigation had been conducted. An energy surge like that only meant natural causes, something outside of the regulations of the arena itself, and Yuuri knew that.

                Deep down, he knew, that it was all just a coincidental happenstance of events, an unfortunate stroke of luck that had grounded him mid performance and had singlehandedly ended his prospective career as a glider.

                Yes, indeed, looking back upon the sequence of events, it was clear to him (glaring, really) that this wasn’t the path he was meant to take.

                His first mistake, four years ago, was thinking he could ever be as important as Viktor Nikiforov himself.

                Yuuri Katsuki was born an ordinary boy with ordinary qualities, and not even a star like Viktor could see potential in his average face. He was destined to be a second rate citizen with an ability to pick up on languages faster than others and the inability to say no to his superiors. Yuuri Katsuki was born to be a drone in the worker’s world.

                Yuuri Katsuki, sixteen years old, accepted his fate as a normal boy with abnormal dreams; dreams that, with enough push back from fate, could be quelled.

                He was not born to be special.

                At least, not on Earth.


	2. Exaltation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not going to let you go to space alone, kid. If you go, I go.” The sigh he lets out is hard to ignore, and those burnt sienna lakes rolled in the most languid way they could as he pulled away from her and fell backwards into the grass behind him. Was he always this dramatic? She couldn’t recall.  
>  “Y’know, P’chit said the same thing. He’s going to… to work with the pompous rich dogs, he said. I think he’d do fine at it, yeah. But what would you do, Minako Sensei?”  
>  “Why, Yuuri, I’d dance.”  
>  “I’d like that. I’d like t’ see you dance with th’ stars.”  
>  “Oh, Yuuri,” she cooed, falling backwards on her own to gaze across their futures that loomed above with him, “I’d be honored to have you in the audience. What will you do on the Caelestis?”  
>  “I think,” he mused, shuffling around so he could drag the sake bottle to his lips haphazardly and chance a drink in his position, “I’d like to teach the people how to communicate better. I wanna bring people together.”  
>  “Well, if anyone could do it, it’s you.”

                They said that curiosity had tamed the universe, exploration pulling taut on the lasso around the throat of the unknown. They had whispered through the pages of the history books that the insatiable human lust for power drove tiny, insignificant specks of life out into the wild plains of nothingness. It surged their need to grow, make their homes on worlds that didn’t belong to them, and place flags dripping with bravado at the highest peaks they could find because these new habitable bodies cradled against the breast of uncertainty belonged to humans.

                Belonged to the conquerors that slaughtered, maimed, and enslaved their own kind just to make more room for themselves on Earth; to stake claim to new territories that oceans and mountains hid from prying eyes because what they had was not even remotely enough, would _never_ be enough with how the humans flourished in their lives. They were a greedy sort, desperate for more, hungry to be bigger and stronger than history had claimed them to be up until that point. They were in a race against themselves to be the strongest; no competition holding them back, no one else standing out to challenge them as they pressed on, determined and strong willed because that was all they had. Humans were nothing if not dedicated to the art of taking what wasn’t theirs to begin with.

                October 4th, 1957 was the day when humans, as a race, came together in battling opposition to fight for the right to claim space as their own. It was the wading period, like letting one’s body adjust to the cooler temperature of the shaded water on a summer’s day, a time in which they could gain comfort in their abilities to branch out beyond what Earth had provided them. If one could explore space, couldn’t one, theoretically, take space as their own?

                So they did.

                It took over four hundred years, but the human race as a whole, divided in their expeditions as they may be, took to space with a fiery fist clenched tight around the very physical embodiment of victory they had at their fingertips. Travel to space was easy, relatively affordable, and the newest frontier for human expansion. Colonization companies slithered in from the woodworks beneath humanity to take advantage of the newfound theoretical goldmine that was space exploration. Earth was crowded, a decaying body of life that once was, bound eternally to be the victim of the continued abuse by its inhabitants. Earth wouldn’t exist forever, moving on had to happen now or never.

                Expansion started small, tiny airships carted out hundreds at a time to planetary bodies the International Space Federation had approved of for inhabitation, suspended the lives of the passengers on board throughout travel and woke them up just before reaching their destinations. A group of three hundred, citizens from China, America, and Russia, had become the first colonization group to successfully migrate from Earth to a foreign celestial body. The Starship Emissary went down in history as the first colony ship of its kind to survive the voyage there and back, opening up a whole new avenue for the companies like Zeta Yaw to take advantage of.

                This was a new era for greed, a new generation of liars and souls that weighed heavy with deceit and trickery. Space colonization was how the billionaires made their fortunes and how the kids kept themselves entertained in school. It was the motivator for good grades and better worth ethics, the driving force behind college aged teens desperate to get into the best schools, thirsty for the knowledge that would give them the fortune they craved; their out, their ticket through the Milky Way.

                It was all basic history, the telling of how they claimed the unmarred endlessness of space, said to be like the great western pioneers of the United States as they fought through battered egos and bloodied hope to get to where they were. Yuuri remembered reading about it in the fifth grade, curious and thirsty for information as his teacher prattled on at the front of the classroom with that spark in her eye he’d never forget. He remembered how her hands moved through the air, fingers dancing in smooth waves as she explained how the Emissary made its maiden voyage; he remembered, so clearly, how she squatted in front of him, standing only at four feet three inches tall in the middle of the classroom with his fists balled around that stuffed moon Mari had bought him two summers ago, taking his hands in her own as they recited, verbatim, the colonial anthem.

                Space inspired him _almost_ as much as Viktor Nikiforov did.

                Then again, nothing held a candle to the kind of inspiration Viktor drove through a boy only ten years of age. His mother had sat him down one day, two cups of tea sitting ready at the table in their common room, that warm smile on her face that reminded him of hot chocolate waiting for him during the bitter bite of winter. She had taken his much smaller hands in her own, thumbs stroking gently over their backs, drawing him in so deeply with the movement that he didn’t even see the ever resonating adoration that pooled in her eyes.

                “Yuuri, my little star, I have a very important question for you.”

                “Yes, mama?” he chirped, molten chocolate puddles peeling their gaze away from the hands his mother held to lock up with her steady line of sight. Anything, at this age, could be very important. _What do you want for dinner,_ she had questioned to a then Yuuri of a meagre five years old, _what would you like for your birthday,_ she prodded over dinner to her son who sat tall at seven. Importance varied depending on the mood and the situation, but it always, _always_ revolved around one thing:

                What Yuuri wanted the most.

                “You like to watch Viktor, yes? Do you like what he does, the dancing?”

                _Oh yes, of course,_ he mused to himself, tiny fingers curling softly in his mother’s hold while his lips lilted up into a spiral of joy. The dancing was the best part of those competitions, at least as far as Yuuri was concerned. Yes, of _course_ he knew there was a score system. Most things were held to a competitive standard, art form or not. He understood the concept, however unnecessary he thought it might be, but the performances he watched truly enchanted him regardless of who won or lost.

                Viktor, in his own right, was ethereal in the chambers; gliding without effort through the space man had created for an artist like him to make their own, cutting through the thickness of suspense as he pushed himself through one of the spin combinations his routines were known for. Viktor was an athlete of a higher caliber than most, able to move and twist his body in ways the International Gliding Federation had never seen before. He was a hurricane breeching the safe walls of regulation, a disaster that reshaped the sport into a more tangible beast that begged to be broken. Viktor Nikiforov was a grand master, a legend, and all the posters in the world couldn’t discourage a young Yuuri Katsuki from looking up to him.

                “Yeah, I do. I love the dancing, ma. The gliders look like shooting stars in the arenas. Do you think people make wishes on them?” A soft twist of his wrist had his mother letting one of his hands go so he could stroke his chin in thought, his brows knitting together at a furrow between his eyes to help pull him through his thoughts. It was a force of habit, his father had said, but one he couldn’t bring himself to break out of. It was effective, after all, what point would there be in stopping now?

                A brown bob swayed out of his peripherals, taking it as his mother nodding with finality before she finally let his other hand go. “I’m not sure, Yuuri. What do you think? Do you wish on the gliders when they perform?”

                “Sometimes,” he confesses, cheeks rosy with embarrassment. He was ten, of course he did. _It’s not strange,_ he countered inwardly, taking his cup of tea into his hands before blowing away the steam, _lots of people at school do it._

               “And what do you wish for when you’re watching them perform, hm?”

                “I can’t tell you, mama, that’s not how wishes work.”

                Her quiet hum tells him she’ll back off, but her knowing look and gentle smile over the rim of her cup tells him all that he’d want answered.

                “I wish…”

                _Inhale._

“I wish I could be important, like them. I want to be a star, too. Make art like the gliders!”

                “Yuuri, sweetheart, do you not think you’re important?”

                _No,_ his mind betrays him, causing him to visibly flinch and curl inward. Of course he didn’t think he was important, how could he? Average boy of average size, with an average laugh and an average smile. He wasn’t memorable, never stood out in a crowd and never wanted to be the center of attention. It wasn’t something he craved in his life, a fleeting necessity brought on by the flakiness of his classmates. The only friends he had ever had that managed to stubbornly push past his high barrier walls and nestle themselves in beside his heart were Yuuko and Takeshi.

                Of course he wasn’t important. That wasn’t an opinion, but very simply a fact.

                He hadn’t realized he started crying until his mother had shuffled quietly to his side, pulling up the sleeves of her yukata to wipe away the pillowing tears under his eyes. Even at ten, when the world is uncertain and everything was still new, feeling unimportant is quite the burden. It drags down even the brightest children, snuffing out their hope in an effort to make way for the worthy individuals. The people who _deserved_ to be adored, deserved to be in the spotlight. Yuuri was a creature born into the shadows of everyone else, lumbering yards beyond him, never giving him a chance to step out into the forefront of the limelight.

                She was cooing at him now, hands cradling his reddened face so gently as she urged him to look at her. He didn’t though, and that made the reality of the situation too much; it meant that he was right. He _was_ weak, after all, just look at him now. A mess after a five minute conversation with his mother, fists trembling in his lap as he fought back bubbling sobs and the overflowing puddles of self-loathing that threatened to give him away.

                “Oh, Yuuri,” she whispered, right hand splayed over his chest, right where his heart thrashed against his ribcage, desperate for her touch and comfort, “I wish you knew just how important you were. To me, Mari, your father; Minako too, of course, you know how much she loves you, Yuuri. But you’re so much more to the world, I wish you saw that.” Her voice was sad, a wavering breath against his forehead as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss between his eyes, and he knew she was taking this upon herself; it had to have been her fault in her eyes that he felt so unimportant, that he didn’t see how loved he truly was.

                Her stout fingers curled into his shirt, nails gently scraping at his skin through the cotton fabric and she nudged his head back with her nose enough to lock eyes with him again, “You see, Yuuri, inside each and every one of us is a universe. There is so much life and wonder inside everyone, waiting to get out and make the world so much better. Inside you, my sweetest sun, is everything. You are the culmination of everything that is good in this world and those beyond, you are exactly what we all need. You are important because you _are_ happiness. You _are_ love. There is not a shortage of talent in your body, Yuuri, and there is nothing in this universe or the next that will stop you from reaching your full potential. You were made to be so much more than you think you’re worthy of, and I promise you, with everything that I have, that you will be great at whatever you want to do.”

                At some point he figures she’s rambling, talking more to herself than him for the sake of helping ease back into a state of personal calm, but he listens anyway, breaths steady and sure while his tears were kept tucked away for a later use. His mother, of course, believed in him. She always did, always stood by his side and fought for him, because despite what the poison in his brain hissed out deep down he knew he was worth it.

                Worth this.

                “I want to be a glider too, mama. Like Viktor. I want to be a shooting star, I want people to make wishes on me.”

                It’s her turn to sob, tears bouncing over her rounded cheeks as she barks out a surprised laugh and pulls her youngest against her chest. They’re quiet for a moment, her steady hands cradling the back of his head and the middle of his spine while they rock together on the floor, but it’s a moment of comfort that they both needed; a moment of assurance that, no matter what, they’d both keep fighting together. That in and of itself was comforting enough to let him curl his hands into the back of her yukata in reciprocation.

                “We’ll see to it that you are, Yuuri, I promise. Whatever you want, I swear, it’s yours.”

                “That’s what I want, mama. I want to be somebody.”

                “Of course, my little moon.”

* * *

 

                “Viktor Nikiforov? As in _The_ Viktor Nikiforov, the one you had holographic posters of on your walls all throughout highschool? Viktor Maximovich Nikiforov, the man who single handedly led to your sexual awakening in your junior year of high school?”

                “It wasn’t a sexual _awakening,_ Phichit, I was already well aware of myself by then. Viktor had nothing to do with it.”

                A soft bark of laughter let out across the other line, Phichit’s face twisting into glee as he fought back the onslaught of giggles that threatened to ruin the mood. For everything the Thai male had ever strove to be in life, securing himself as Yuuri’s “number one best friend ever no take-backs” was the pinnacle of his long list of achievements in his only twenty two years on Earth. They had met by chance, a forced rooming requirement at Cornell in the fall semester that shoved a man with a penchant for foreign tongues and a boy with an overly excitable facet into a cramped dorm, only double beds and tiny closets to hold their lives together for the next two years.

                Phichit Chulanont, a foreign exchange student from Thailand, had easily made himself at home in the hours Yuuri avoided the room on their first day back. Yuuri had already been at the Cornell college life for two years, beaten and degraded by the livelihood of being a foreign student in America living solely off the income his parents ported him every Wednesday, finding no comfort in suddenly being forced to dorm with a complete stranger from a different department, nevertheless one that was a Freshman. He wasn’t the kind of guy you took to easily, not the kind of passing student you saw every day that made you forget your next lecture through the clouded fog of an afterthought, a simple question of “what’s he like at a party?”

                Unassuming and quiet ended up being the answer to that, Phichit had assured him midway through the second semester after a night on the town that was “well-earned and much needed”. His roommate had a way of weaseling his way into the lives of others, making himself at home in the cavities of their chest so as to be sure their hearts were safe from bruising. He was a great guy, sociable and kind, a completely radiant sun that warmed the room to counter Yuuri’s seismic supernovas that escaped him under pressure. They were an odd pair, a sociable boy with unending optimism, and a man with too much to lose and the forethought that he’d already lost it all, but they made it work.

                Or, Phichit did, through enough determination and sessions of gently prodding the emotional bear that Yuuri could be when he hibernated through his depression. He was the soothing tides to Yuuri’s aching shores, a staple in his daily routine he never knew he needed until Phichit left for home over the summer. Yuuri had never brought up just what had happened, but the echoing loneliness that greeted his roommate when he returned home to their dorm had almost knocked him out. What Phichit gave in soothing waves of reassurance and optimism, Yuuri fed back in forethought and a sense of calm the wary sea never felt.

                On the roof of their apartment complex, two years, four months, and five days after they had first met, Yuuri placed a shaking hand over Phichit’s and confided in him in the most honest way he could. They were soulmates, that much was obvious, though best friends through the end and never anything more; they never wanted _more,_ were happy with what life had given them at that point. They were content to lay on the cold roof of their humble home in the middle of the concrete jungle, fingers entwined and smiles ceaseless under the starry sky, just existing with each other and finding that trusted ebb and flow of familiarity never failed to anchor them to reality.

                Five years of friendship was why Yuuri had brought out his compad, nestled gently at the foot of his bed as he sat square in the middle with his legs crisscrossed on top of his comforter. It was earlier than their weekly calls, the young linguist finding a crisis within himself reason enough to call Phichit in the middle of the night on a Tuesday. Well, at least for him. It was five PM in New York, Yuuri remembered that much, and the emptied plate of what once was pad kapao only confirmed his hesitant theory. What he hadn’t banked on was Phichit’s never ending necessity to bring up his _infatuation_ with Viktor, though his hindsight was twenty-twenty and he should have seen it coming from a mile away.

                _You live and you learn, Katsuki._

“Right, of course. Absolutely _nothing_ to do with it. Kaiden looking suspiciously similar to self-appointed God among men was a complete coincidence, right?”

                A blush bubbled under the surface of his cheeks, the gaze he had locked on Phichit’s projected self now darted over to his closet door at the mention of his ex-lover. Of course it wasn’t just a coincidence, but Yuuri wasn’t going to admit to that, and Kaiden was more than just a pretty face and good intentions. “Of course it was. He was a good looking guy who had a genuine interest in me and, believe it or not, was a good person. We dated for over a year, remember?”

                “I do, and I never said I didn’t like him! I was completely bummed out when you called it off, if I can be frank.”

                “I couldn’t commit long distance, Phi, my anxiety is bad enough on its own. Having him out in Seattle while I stayed in New York wasn’t practical for our relationship, and he understood that. You did too, _you_ told me I was making the right decision.” Perhaps the underlying pout in his words was forced, but it was still inherently _there,_ lingering and ever present in their conversations whenever Yuuri’s love life had been brought up. Phichit, for what it was worth, had been the most stable person to enter his life in the past decade, and through every newly kindled romance to each dramatic fall from glory he was always there with a box of tissues and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. It was always Phichit who picked up the pieces of Yuuri’s shattered self-worth when he couldn’t bring himself to keep it together anymore.

                “Yeah, I know I did! It still _sucked_ though. But we’re completely off topic, and you’re just creating a verbal diversion. You know I’m susceptible to your ploys!”

                “That’s absolutely right, and I take pride in using that to my advantage.”

                “Yuuri.”

                _Fine._

“Yes; at least, according to Mari anyway. I think she just wants to get me on board with this, regardless of what it takes. But, then again, after he retired last year I can’t say I’d find it _too_ farfetched that he’d ship himself out on the Caelestis considering Team Sokolov is funding the whole thing anyways.”

                “So is her plan working then? Are you considering it?”

                A pause.

                Was he? Granted, it wasn’t much to think about; either he stay here on Earth, living out his life in the ghosting memories of his childhood in the home he can’t escape, with a dead end job that takes him nowhere, or he bites the bullet, lives a little, and goes to space with every intention on finally doing something with his life. But what about his family? Minako? Phichit, even? Moving to the Caelestis meant never seeing them in person again, and no matter how desperate things got he would never forfeit over the ability he had to see his friends and family as he pleased.

                Being alone in space was hard enough, but without his constant support system to help guide and encourage him through the rest of his future, failure was imminent and he might as well have been better staying off back at Earth. _No need to waste money on a future that is as empty as this one,_ he berated, his hands fiddling with each other idly on his lap while the hologram of his best friend hummed in contemplation.

                “I think so, if I’m going to be honest; and no, it has _nothing_ to do with the prospect of living out the rest of my life on a starship that Viktor happens to live on.”

                “That’s great, though! This is the most concrete thought process you’ve had about where you’re going next since Carmichael got bought out. What’s holding you back, though? I can see it in your eyes, the hesitance. What gives, Yuu?”

                “I can’t just… pack up everything I own, move to space, and leave everything – _everyone_ behind. That’s not an easy decision to make, you know? Losing you, mom, dad. Mari and Minako too, of course, but if anyone was going to find a way to harass me in the Crux Orion, it’d be them.”

                A scoff from the other line had him drawing his attention back to the compad, light blue illumination filtering light off the walls of his room. Phichit had his arms crossed and brows furrowed tightly together, a look of sheer disgust and disappointment written across his face that only caused the Yuuri to shrink into himself. “I take personal offense to that! If anyone could _successfully_ harass you out in the Crux Orion, it’d be me! Then again, I think I’d rather just pack up my own stuff and go with you.”

                That got the older man’s attention, eyes blown wide in surprise at the Thai’s words. Move _with_ him? That wasn’t an option, was it? This was Yuuri’s quest to be a better person, to find meaning in _his_ life. Phichit, nor anyone else in his life for that matter, didn’t need to hook themselves to the shackles of Yuuri’s crippling failure. Phichit had a future, a bright one; one he had studied for at Cornell, one he had paid for in blood, sweat, and tears because that was _his_ dream. A selfish man would be no better than to bow and accept the offer, but Yuuri prided himself on being everything _but_.

                It was his best quality.

                “No, no – no, Phichit, you can’t just pack up everything and come with me, you have your life sorted out here. You’re doing great, you got your dream job. You went to one of the best schools in the _world_ for veterinary medicine, you can’t just… throw it all away to go live on the Caelestis in the middle of space.”

                “That’s not even remotely your decision to make, first off. Secondly, I don’t know if you remember this, because I sure do, but you went to Cornell too! We are both Ivy League graduates. Ivy! League! That’s not something to brush off so casually, dude. You’re amazing too, your future is just as bright as mine, and you can’t _tell me_ they won’t need a veterinary assistant on board for all those elitist gold members with their posh pets and expensive tastes in dog food. I’m like a diamond in the rough, only the rough is New York and I just happen to be on display at a museum. I could be better displayed somewhere else, and I’d rather it be alongside you. We’re ride or die, Yuu, _you_ told me that three years ago. Just because you move to space doesn’t stop that. I’ll do it, I’ll go with you. It’s pretty exciting!”

                “Phichit,” he contested, voice quiet after the other man’s eclectic rant, but a grunt of warning had him stopping himself short so he could mull over what had just been said instead. Yes, they both _were_ Ivy League graduates, a large feat in and of itself. They had fought so hard, struggled through so many sessions of binge studying and weekends of depressive eating because it wasn’t ever supposed to be _easy_. They had each other, and it was hard, but they survived. Phichit might currently be employed, but that didn’t mean Yuuri was in any way less capable of achieving his own dreams.

                “You’re right, you’re right. I still stand by my argument that you can’t just drop everything and follow me to space, but I can’t argue the fact that it _is_ your choice to do so, not mine. I just… I think this is the right thing for me, you know? I don’t want to lose my family, but they’d support it more than anyone else. I think this is what is going to take me to the next level.”

                “There we go! That’s the Yuuri I know and love! You know I’m a weak man for you telling me I’m right, so I’ll forgive you this once for assuming I can’t make my own decisions about my life.”

                A short laugh broke through the tension that loomed in the air, enough to ease Yuuri back into a more relaxed pose in his position before he reached forward and took the compad into the palm of his hand. “I should know better by now than to argue with you about these things, you’re going to do whatever you want regardless. My job is to make sure you don’t regret the choices you make.”

                The smile on his friends face was comfort on its own, those warm rays of greeting the sun stretched out with each morning at dawn only paling against the natural light that was Phichit Chulanont, “That’s my job too, for you. I just want what’s best for you, Yuuri. I want to know that you’re happy with what you’re doing.”

                A beat of silence passes, and with a slow breath, drawn out and languid for the added dramatic effect, Yuuri replies;

                “I think, for the first time in months, I am finally happy settling on what my future is going to be.”

                “Good. You deserve to feel confident in yourself.”

* * *

 

                In the end, he always found the stars.

                When the days were long and he needed an escape, when his thoughts were merciless and his anxiousness never wavered, the open skies above welcomed him each night with an unspoken promise of everything, and oh, did it make a young Yuuri Katsuki _want._ He wanted so much in his twenty six years; he wanted love, but never pursued it, happiness, but never looked for it. He wanted to be an equal to a man revered as a god, a man with talent ingrained into the inner workings of his core systems, someone who was born to be extraordinary. But he couldn’t be.

                After all, if everyone was special, then would special mean anything in the long run?

                A sobering thought, one that anchored the young man to reality after his accident at fifteen. _It’s okay to be nobody,_ he had reminded himself, _and the nobodies are the cogs in the machine that is the universe. We are essential, if only faceless. I’m still important._

It was a tattooed reminder on his heart that his failure didn’t define him, not in that moment and not for the rest of his life. His parents were still proud that he tried, Mari never seemed to hold a grudge that her promising baby brother got spooked and gave up. Minako was the only one who gave him any gruff over his decision, but the sharp edge to her words was only coupled by her gentle hands on either side of his face when he told her he was backing down from future competitions.

                She never cared much for giving up, but she loved him like her own. In the end, his peace of mind and safety trumped her inhibitions about him retiring so early into his junior career, and he remained a household name in Hasetsu and neighboring cities for years to follow anyway. He had done more than others had with a similar dream; he had made a move to chase his destiny, and regardless of how he laid crumpled on the floor of the chamber in the middle of a deafened arena, an itching voice had reminded him that he had, at the very least, tried.

                Now he sat alone, in his late twenties back home with a bottle of sake in his hand and an afterthought of regret pacing in his mind, dwelling on what was in his life and what had yet to be. This was how she found him, face flushed and relaxed with an unusual composition that wasn’t known to his features, inhibitions gone and filter off. It wasn’t the first time an inebriated Yuuri had made his way into her life, but it was one of the rare times where she didn’t indulge that itch that was so familiar to her now by joining him. Instead, with a heavy sigh, she sat beside her godson and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, eyes trailing up to where his gaze lingered on the skies above.

                “Everything okay, Yuuri? Your mom said she hadn’t seen you since this morning, and Mari brought up something about the Caelestis. Thinking about finally biting the bullet and taking the plunge into the world unknown?”

                He shifted, head lolling to the right lazily so he could rest it against her shoulder while he steeled himself for comment. She could see the cogs cranking in his head, the flickering of life as the machine that was so undeniably _Yuuri_ in nature kicked back on; it was almost worth asking how long he had been out here, skirting on the edge of besotted with that glint in his eyes that she knew only to be dangerous, but fruitless in the end. It was a curious thing, finding Yuuri out behind the onsen in his half tied green robes with his eyes glued upwards, that dreamy childish wonder that he lost so long ago flicking across his face once more. If she could describe it in one word, she’d put her entire life’s savings on _enchanting._

                “Mm, yea’. ‘S the only thing I can do,” he slurred, head twisting against her shoulder so she would take the hint to slink her arm around his torso and pull him close. He was very particular about physical affections, seeking it out only when he needed it the most, and in the twenty six years he has been in her life, she had not once ever been able to deny him the carnal desire to be comforted when he was distraught. Especially not when he was drunk.

                “The _only_ thing, huh?”

                “Mee-nah-ko sen-say, look’it me. ‘M a mess, an’ I’m in _shambles_ of all things. Shambles!” She fought back a biting need to laugh as he drug her name out in a sigh of exasperation, instead opting to rub her hand up and down his bicep in an attempt at comforting her haggard student. “Space is the only op’ion, I gotta… I gotta get up there an’… I’m goin’ to do _somethin’_ cool.”

                “You can do plenty of things here too, you know. You already have.”

                “S’not the same, though. It’s not _cool._ ” His voice only persisted to punctuate the ‘cool’ part of his sentences, a slight pep in his tone every time it stumbled out of his mouth. A large part of her didn’t want to contest him on that, space was the end-all-be-all if you wanted to go out doing something notably stellar, but he was drunk and miserable, and it wasn’t right to sit here and humor him if he was so determined to do something more with his life.

                That’s why Hiroko had called her over to begin with.

                “You’re cool, Yuuri, remember that. An Ivy League grad who just so happens to be able to speak five languages, does ballet, _and_ has formal training in gliding? I don’t know what possessed you to be so cultured, Katsuki, but anything you do in your life will always be cool.”

                “Well… yeah, but it’d be cooler in space.” There wasn’t much room for argument there, and with a sigh she pulled back from him enough so she could maneuver him into looking at her full on without being able to retreat from her penetrating gaze. It was something she had honed in perfectly throughout her years as a ballet instructor, the gaze that haunted the souls of her students in their sleep but only pushed them to be better performers. It helped Yuuri know when to back down from a fight, after all, that young stubborn streak he flaunted when he was eight was nearly a travesty on its own for his future under her tutelage.

                “I’m not going to let you go to space alone, kid. If you go, I go.” The sigh he lets out is hard to ignore, and those burnt sienna lakes rolled in the most languid way they could as he pulled away from her and fell backwards into the grass behind him. Was he always this dramatic? She couldn’t recall.

                “Y’know, P’chit said the same thing. He’s going to… to work with the pompous rich dogs, he said. I think he’d do fine at it, yeah. But what would _you_ do, Minako Sensei?”

                “Why, Yuuri, I’d dance.”

                “I’d like that. I’d like t’ see you dance with th’ stars.”

                “Oh, Yuuri,” she cooed, falling backwards on her own to gaze across their futures that loomed above with him, “I’d be honored to have you in the audience. What will you do on the Caelestis?”

                “I think,” he mused, shuffling around so he could drag the sake bottle to his lips haphazardly and chance a drink in his position, “I’d like to teach the people how to communicate better. I wanna bring people together.”

                “Well, if anyone could do it, it’s you.”

* * *

 

                Phichit had taken a redline voyage to the Nagoya port in the middle of December, a sole suitcase the only luggage he dared bring along with him to his expedition into the unknown that was Japan. This was the start of his future; _their_ future, Yuuri had commented two weeks ago, having brought Minako into the equation over another late night call. It made sense, Phichit had countered at Yuuri’s failed attempts at protesting against her tagging along, it gave him more people to be familiar with. Not everyone could drop everything like he and Minako could, and not everyone who _could_ was willing to do this.

                Even under the guise of doing this for themselves, Phichit and Minako knew as well as anyone else that this was all for Yuuri.

                It was his best friend of five years who greeted him at the port, bundled in that god awful brown coat he loved so much with a scarf as blue as the ocean itself wrapped loosely around his neck and face to block out the chilling winds that clipped them from the shore. It wasn’t visible, not through the fabric that covered his mouth at least, but it wasn’t hard to see the way Yuuri’s facial muscles pulled taut in a smile when the other man had exited the shinkansen.

                “Yuuri! I wasn’t expecting you to come all the way out here to meet me. That’s quite the trip! I know I’m not the closest to Hasetsu that I could be, and all.”

                “It’s not a big deal, honestly. You told me you were riding into Nagoya and couldn’t exactly just leave you stranded out here almost six hours away.”

                “ _Six hours_?” Surely Yuuri must have been joking, right? He needed to save his money the best he could, especially for this big move, it made sense to take the train out to Nagoya first since it was worlds cheaper than flying out to Fukuoka considering just how long the trip itself took (just over three days, and he never wanted to take the shinkansen to Japan again). It was still a new method of travel, but the Japanese had adapted their train lines to run along the surface of the ocean to allow for cheaper international travel opportunities, but the shinkansen ports that were available out of Japan were few and far between.

                “Well, by bus, yeah. I assumed that was how you were planning on getting to Hasetsu, after all. I bought us plane tickets to Fukuoka, though. We’ll be in Hasetsu within two hours.”

                The foreign male was caught blinking slowly as his fingers curled protectively around the handle of his suitcase, eyes flickering over the moving bodies that jostled them around at the pier, before landing back on his temporary host, “You didn’t have to do that, Yuuri. I know you’re more strapped for cash than I am.”

                “I’m not, don’t worry. I fret about some financial things, but who actually likes digging into their savings? Come on, we’re going to miss our flight.”

                “So I’m assuming our interview isn’t tomorrow, then, if you insisted on getting a plane. Am I right?”

                For a brief moment Phichit could see Yuuri’s face tense at the question, shoulders squared and hesitant to drop their guard once presented with a line of questioning he wasn’t yet ready to face. If five years of being best friends to the physical embodiment of overthinking has taught him anything, it was how to read the other’s body language like a book. “No, it’s in four hours. It was easier to get everything ready today before I backed out of it. I’m sure you just want to rest, and I get that, but if you can stick it out for a few more hours for me then I promise you can sleep as much as you want until we leave for Moscow and I’ll never ask for anything again.”

                “That’s a lie and you know it,” the shorter contested, steeling himself to follow behind obediently his friend as the other led them to the nearby transport pad, “but I really don’t care. I slept plenty on the train ride over, after all. Three days, Yuuri! It was awful, I’ve never been more productive in my _life._ ”

                Yuuri’s laughter cut through the awkward tension he himself had placed between them, his shoulders rolling generously as he gradually let himself relax. He had frequented the shinkansen lines to America more than anyone he knew, a veteran to the trip after years of use, and could sympathize with Phichit enough to carry on the conversation. “I’m _so sorry_ you had to find some way to do something with your life, Phi, really. It must have been hard on you.”

                “It was! I think you owe me some cooking from mama Katsuki, it’s the only way to ease the ache in my heart from my travels.”

                “I’m sure she’d be more than happy to give you something for your troubles.”

                Companionable silence found them for most of their way back to Hasetsu, a majority of their conversations happening at the Fukuoka Airport and the Hakata Station with Yuuri taking the lead in dialogue to help get his baffled companion where they needed to be. A quiet trip, one in which Phichit would go on later to claim helped solidify their status as best friends, that had allowed both men to give each other a sense of aching comfort they had missed for months since Yuuri had moved back home.

                Books centuries ago had told of fables regarding the heart, and how unfair it felt to be apart from a soulmate for extended periods of time, but they had just laughed it off as skepticism. Their general emotional fatigue lifting as soon as they saw each other face to face seemed to only give them the support they needed to have more faith in the bond they shared.

                It was evidence like that which gave him confidence in his decision to join Yuuri.

                _Holy shit,_ he thought, _we’re actually going to space. This is happening._

* * *

 

                Fighting for one’s future was always an odd battle to work through, something that only brought on _more_ confusion as time ticked on; what was one’s life worth? What sort of effort put forth was acceptable enough to say you actually tried? What rules had been wrought to give out the minimum requirements each person had to meet before they could effectively claim that they had no future to obtain?

                What otherworldly power had the right to decide the fate of billions?

                _What can I do as a human to be enough?_

                “… Katsuki? Mister Katsuki, are you with us?”

                “Ah! Yes, yes I’m fine, I’m here. I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

                The council shares a collective glance at each other, the woman in the middle doing her best to keep her composure as she tries to will a distracted Katsuki boy into focusing on the here and now, not the theoretical what ifs. It was written on his face, etched into the lines that curved around his features that he wasn’t focused, and his eyes danced with possibility and determination regarding something that wasn’t presently important. He knew as well as anyone else in this room he was pointedly _not_ focused on, perhaps, the most important interview in his life. Instead, he hooked his hands together, guided his gaze up past the projection of Zeta Yaw’s Colonization Council, and reoriented himself into the now.

                “I was saying,” the woman in the middle spoke ( _Madame Baranovskaya,_ he recalled), posture firm and demanding as she willed him to look at her. It was amazing, really, what sheer intimidation factor did to the already meek minded. He wasn’t unwilling to participate, per se, but he was definitely hesitant to hold eye contact with the CEO of the company that rendered him unemployed only a few months prior, “that we are certainly interested in taking on you and your friends. The Caelestis has a solitary goal in mind for this venture, and you and Miss Okukawa provide us with something we have yet to find. Mister Chulanont, on his own terms, is a necessity to our communal force as well, but for an entirely separate reason.”

                “I, uh… what exactly do we offer that is so different? Or, I guess, what is more appealing about us than someone with formal training in medicine?” He shot Phichit a small, apologetic smile, one that was waved off noncommittally by the other. He didn’t hold any ill will towards Yuuri for that, they were the Madame’s words, not his.

                “We are setting up a council for cultural preservation, something that will exist solely to assure the finer cultural points of the human race don’t become forgotten. Dance is a universal art form, something your former instructor is _more_ than familiar with, and it’s so rare these days someone takes to the books to become a linguist. You speak five languages, yes? Which ones were they?”

                “I formally studied English, Russian, French, and Chinese at Cornell during my tenure there, and coming from Japan I’m a native speaker of Japanese.”

                She seems appeased, nodding curtly before moving to type something into her digitizer before she refocuses herself onto the Thai man to Yuuri’s left, “And Mister Chulanont, you’re formally trained in Veterinary medicine, but have been acting as an Assistant for the past year or so. Is that true?”

                “Yes ma’am! It was just easier to move into my field starting out with assistant work, was all. I did my shadowing in school, though, so I have the formal training necessary to take on the main practitioner’s position if needed.”

                “Good to know, yes. Thank you.”

                Phichit doesn’t seem to be too phased by this invasive line of questioning, not to the degree Yuuri was at the least. Minako was in her own world, a queen in her throne in the middle of an emptied banquet room at the inn that they had repurposed for this meeting. She was a sure-in, there was no questioning it. She had achieved one of the highest honors in the dancing community by taking home a Benois de la Danse of her own over twenty years ago, when Yuuri was just a small boy who couldn’t completely give her the excitement she needed for such an achievement. _I owe her more for that,_ he scolds himself, faltering gaze landing back on his lap as the occupants in the room bounce off ideas with each other and the “highly esteemed council” as Mari had called them.

                He wasn’t going to _make it._ Phichit was a doctor, someone with a skill people actually needed out in space, he had the formal training to do something magnificent with his talents, and he wasn’t going to be denied by the three projections of power that sat before them. Minako wasn’t going to be thrown to the curb either; someone with her extensive history in dance and the decorations under her name weren’t things to gloss over, not if they wanted a council for cultural preservation. Minako could very easily be the president if things went her way.

                But Yuuri, oh Yuuri; the odd duck in the line of swans that tried to fit in under the low lamplights of the room. He was always going to be the ordinary boy who surrounded him with otherworldly talents, basking in the eternal glow of glory they put off because there wasn’t a bone in his body capable of being more than just a man that went through the motions of life. He wasn’t _special._ It was a mantra he repeated to himself in his sleep, curled up in bed under the down comforter that he’d had since he was twelve. A relic of his past, the company of his failures that stood out like loose strings against his flesh and the sheets underneath his aching bones.

                He spoke five languages, went to an Ivy League school to learn how to communicate with the foreigners he never had the gall to reach out to. He spoke to himself in different tongues to keep up his vocabulary, getting in the practice he had ached for but could never quite achieve perfectly on his own. His insecurities got the best of him most days, dragging him down into a watery pit of his own tears and immeasurable regret. He’d drown in his own agony if his friends and family weren’t so keen to his habits, throwing their hands under his armpits and hefting him out of the depths of sorrow he forced himself into. Recovery was solely brought on by the hands of people who were far better than he ever could be, and he owed his life to them on more than one occasion.

                He couldn’t hold them back now, though.

                “I’ll be quite honest with the three of you, we’d love to have you onboard. We could have you move in within the week, settle you in before we launch in January. We’ll send over the reduced rate information for your tickets, seeing as your services will benefit us as well as your fellow passengers. You’re free to choose your own lodgings accordingly, but as it stands, the three of you would alone qualify for a Silver Level pass each.”

                _What?_

                “I’m – I’m sorry, did you say you’ve accepted our applications for residency? All three of us?” His voice wavered, only slightly but enough that Phichit had placed one hand over his clasped pair, thumb stroking over his knuckles comfortingly because _yes, I heard her right._

They thought he was worthwhile; that he was someone worth taking a chance on to take to space for the first time in his life, banking on him being comfortable enough to teach and learn with others, being more than the anxious boy that lost his way eleven years ago. Regardless of who was or wasn’t on the ship, this was his chance. He was going to make his family proud.

                Himself proud.

                “Yes, Mister Katsuki, we’ve accepted your applications. It’d be a bit strange for us to turn down two esteemed Ivy League graduates and a recipient of the Benois de la Danse. Were you worried?”

                “Hah, yeah, a bit. Building a new life is a little intimidating, after all.”

                “Of course it is, and we appreciate your interest and dedication to keeping our culture alive while building your future onboard the Caelestis. Now, we’ll finish processing your residential forms as soon as your tickets have been purchased, then we will provide transportation to Moscow where you will have your initial debriefing before being brought onboard. She has yet to leave port, and won’t for a few weeks more, so getting you three on won’t be nearly as much as a hassle as it will be once the passengers start filing on.”

                “Will there be someone for us to meet once we arrive? Or will we be meeting with one of the assigned robotic personnel at the port?”

                Madame Baranovskaya takes a moment to flick over her digitizer, looking through a few files before she can calmly clear her throat and answer the question Yuuri had presented her, “We’ll have a member of our personnel meet you at the sky dock. Would you all be willing to ship out from Fukuoka on Monday? Remember, we don’t leave until late January, so you have the advantage of porting over any belongings you will need that cannot be brought along with you immediately.”

                Minako is the first to respond, breaking her self-inflicted vow of silence during the meeting to answer before Yuuri had a chance to back down, “Of course we will be. What sort of travel arrangements are we looking at?”

                The man to the Madame’s right clears his throat, pulling out a digitizer of his own to scroll through, “You’ll be leaving from Fukuoka on Monday at six AM, arriving in Moscow around two PM. From there you will be shuttled to the sky docks and will meet with personnel representative Inessa. She will work with the three of you to get you properly inducted into our systems, have your chips implanted, and then help you settle into your dormitories. Does that sound fine?”

                “Chips? What are those?”

                “For ease of access in our systems, we will not be using the identity bands that are in place on Earth now. Each passenger and member of the crew on the ship will have their own ID chip imbedded into their right wrist. It’s a painless procedure, really, but it’s a hands free way of getting around the ship and using your credits for purchases. We can update your chips at any time remotely should you move to new lodgings, upgrade your services with us, or die on board. You will list beneficiaries at the sky port that can be changed later on if necessary. In the event of an accident, we want to make sure your credits and personal belongings are going to the right place.”

                _No more ID bands._

                An odd thought, something revolutionary on its own that no other colonization company had tried out before, but it seemed easy enough. If one lost their ID band, they couldn’t readily replace that technology in space. Only their local Residency Centers could provide those replacements, and even then they weren’t cheap. Chips could be replaced, repaired, and reprogrammed remotely and relatively easily. It was a sobering thought, all at once, to realize just how advanced the world had become.

                _I’m going to be part of something new. I’m going to make history._

* * *

 

                They always said parting was such a bittersweet sorrow, but with two bags in tow and his mother clinging to him with all her might, Yuuri finally understood the kind of weight the word ‘goodbye’ carried. It was all encompassing, something so overwhelming it rendered him breathless and stupefied in the middle of the onsen’s common room, arms hanging loosely at his side. It was a sudden curveball in his plan, leaving his family behind. He _knew_ , deep down in a darker part of him he never acknowledged, that he was going to have to. Of course he was.

                But with his mother stroking his hair and peppering feather light kisses all over his face, he realized just what was happening. He saw the heartache in his father’s eyes as he pressed on with a smile, hands held together behind his back because Yuuri could see how he struggled to not reach out and keep his little boy at home. Oh, they were proud, they made sure he knew that over breakfast. They made sure he had audio files from them to look at whenever he got homesick, plenty of pictures to mull through when the echoing ache in his chest couldn’t be concealed by sheer will.

                Mari kept to herself, off to the side and away from his parents as they crowded their baby boy with affection and soft words of congratulations. She had said her goodbye’s the night before over a bowl of katsudon that his mother had made him, the last one of hers he’d ever eat, and she made sure to take him out behind the onsen one more time to look at the stars.

                He knew she’d still stargaze when the world became too much to live with, but when she looked up to seek out comfort, he’d be looking down at her with a smile on his face and a hand over his heart.

                _I swear upon my life, Mari, to make you all proud. I will shine in the night sky, and you_ will _see me._

Minako had to pry Yuuri from his mother’s ironclad grip, tears spilling from both of them like waterfalls melting back to life after a winter freeze, mumbling to the group about schedules and getting to the airport on time.

                “We’ll call when we land,” she had said, voice even and calm even when her eyes betrayed her, “I promise. We’ll send weekly grams, too. It’ll be like we never left.”

                “I’m holding you to that, Minako,” Toshiya supplied, right hand reaching forward to straighten out his son’s glasses one last time, “I’m so unbelievably proud of you, Yuuri. Go find your future. I can’t wait to see the man that you become.”

                Phichit had made sure to supply Yuuri with his anti-anxiety medication before they left Fukuoka, a steady hand resting on his shoulder while they took off keeping him grounded to the here and now. “This is a great thing, Yuuri, remember,” he whispered, head lolling to the left a bit to rest against Yuuri’s own, “things will be all right. This is just a new chapter in the book of you.”

                Moscow was cold, unbearably so even, keeping to a memorable negative eight degrees Celsius as soon as they got off the plane. His mother had made sure to pack his coat and winter gear for him in his carryon, warning him that it wouldn’t be quite the same as home when he got off. She was right, of course, she always was, and he tugged dutifully at the light blue scarf to pull it up over his mouth as his shaking hands took hold of his luggage and followed behind Minako with silent obedience.

                Yuuri could see the Caelestis from the plane, the towering starship cast shadows that blanketed most of the snow covered Moscow. It was supposed to house five thousand passengers, and one thousand crew members, with amenities that could only be considered enviable by other starships in the region. Before they had departed from Hasetsu, Madame Baranovskaya had sent to them dormitory layouts for each of the membership levels for them to mull over. While she had said he could easily go with Silver should he wish to, he settled for the standard package and took the studio-esque dormitory in stride. He didn’t need extravagance, he just needed somewhere to go when the world was too much.

                Or, in this case, the universe itself.

                Inessa was a personnel of petite stature and a fair complexion, modeled after the Madame herself without the rougher edges of her personality. She was friendly, companionable even, and if you weren’t sure how Zeta Yaw ran their businesses, you’d assume she was human much like everyone else. She worked with each of the three individually, gathering more personal data for their files ( _Are you clean of any STDs, are you looking for romantic partners, what allergies do you have,_ and _are you in any physical pain at the current moment in time_ ) while Petrov, her own personnel assistant (“ _an android assistant for an android,_ _Yuuri, isn’t that cool!”_ Phichit had stage whispered behind his hand), had worked on implanting the chips into each of their wrists.

                It stung, naturally, but the gentleman on the council was right, it didn’t necessarily hurt. Minako commented on how the intrusion was certain to bruise over time, but Inessa had quelled her concerns with the assurance that all bruises healed within two to three days, and after that they’d never notice the chips were even there. “It’s all part of our hands free system of convenience! We strive our hardest to give you the ease of access to everything the Caelestis has to offer at your fingertips.”

                “Now is as good of a time as any to start making technological advancements, huh?”

                “Yes ma’am. Madame Baranovskaya had insisted we figure out an alternative option for our residents to use instead of the ID bands. They weren’t practical, and if you ask me are a bit outdated and unseemly. The chips might be new, but there’s so much they offer us. Even if we upgrade them later down the line, every resident will still be able to gain access to future versions of the technology.”

                A hum pressed past Minako’s pursed lips as she tore her eyes from Inessa finally to fall on Yuuri. Petrov was working to his left, checking his vitals and preparing the implant in his own, quiet little world. It was a bit surreal, surrounded by chrome and white while monitors beeped lazily at his side and official Zeta Yaw personnel filtered in and out of the room without so much a passing glance. It was an enviable thing to Yuuri, to see these androids moving with purpose, one they were _created_ to have. How truly disdainful he must be to wish to be artificial solely to have a purpose.

                He had turned slightly to speak to Minako, mouth open and poised for questioning before he took her expression in slowly; mouth agape, eyes wide, and cheeks flushed. Most notably, however, was where her gaze fell beyond him. There was a distinct sound of shuffling in the entry way to the medical ward, the activity signaling the arrival of a new resident getting admitted into the system.

                It was her expression that had piqued his interest, blood running cold as he turned his head to peer over his shoulder at the sole person in the room that had rendered his godmother speechless. It could be anyone, really! Minako was privy to appreciating “finer specimens” when it came to humans, she had told him over drinks one night, winking and pointing to the actress on the screen behind him. It was hard _not_ to, that attraction was such a primal thing to ignore, and Minkao was not one to deny herself the finer things in life.

                Yuuri, however, was never prepared to be in the immediate vicinity of someone with a youthful glow that put to shame the wonders the onsen did on his own skin.

                Behind him, just beyond three equally white and sanitary cots that waited for new patients, stood a man who was all legs and broad shoulders, towering above the personnel with a smile that sent shockwaves through the collective unit of bodies that had settled into temporary residence in the room. A smile, Yuuri noted, that curled gently into the shape of a heart.

                With one glance and the flick of silver hair from his eyes, the new patient had caught his gaze and sent him a wink. _A wink, how bold._

                “You must be fellow residents. I’m-“

                “Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri breathed.

                The older man blinked, taken aback for a second at Yuuri’s brash response, but settled back into a smile and chuckled into a closed fist, “It seems my reputation precedes me, then. I, unfortunately, don’t have the pleasure of knowing just who _you_ are, though. Would you care to let me in on your little secret?”

                “Yuuri Katsuki,” he whispered, not skipping a beat as Petrov took the chance to get his chip in him while distracted, “and we’ve already met before.”

                Now _that_ got the other man’s attention.

                “Is that so?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I totally planned to have this chapter out, like, _way_ earlier than it ended up releasing, and I am so sorry. I'm used to an average of 5K words per chapter, but this story is going to be different! So it's. Hard to adjust to that new format for chapters that are twice as long as normal for me. Thank you for being patient! I have just a few notes about this chapter that might ease some confusion about Yuuri's universe:
> 
> -The shinkansen lines were adapted to have railways that worked across large bodies of water, and once the Japanese government could prove they worked, they went ahead and developed lines out to neighboring countries.  
> -Compads are holographic communication devices. Think of them as similar to makeup compacts in size and look, but they connect VIA a wireless connection to one's phone so visual calls could be made through them.  
> -Digitizers are like tablets! It's a steel bar at the top and a Plexiglas panel (that may or may not be colored, depending on the user) that displays various images and menus on it. It's the same concept as a tablet, really, just better programmed for the future.  
> -Pad Kapao is a Thai dish! Katsudon is Yuuri's glutenous pleasure, and Pad Kapao is Phichit's.  
> -Team Sokolov is a group of Russian dignitaries that helped fund the starship's build. It's leaving from Moscow and the trip is being ran out of the Russian Zeta Yaw branch accordingly.  
> -I know, when you first read carnal desire, you think sex, but I promise it means physical desire, be it sensual OR sexual.  
> -Transport pads are an easy enough concept. They look like pill capsules around large cities and you scan your ID band to get in. It's a teleportation pad, easier to get around the city in a hurry if you don't want to wait for public transport. It is expensive, though.   
> -Sky docks are self explanatory! Since the Caelestis is a starship, her docks aren't on the water, but instead are lodged in the sky. They're usually located immediately above a subway station's entrance.  
> -Credits are an easier way to pay for goods and services in 2491. Since they're in space, there's no real reason for money, so they are given credits for hours worked on board or earned (i.e casinos, gambling, lotteries, etc.). They're universal, endless, and easy to use between different vendors. Everyone accepts credits.  
> -Residency Centers can easily be described as a combination between the DMV and the Social Security office. You go there for your residential forms and history of living, and if you need a new ID band made, they're the ones to see.
> 
> For now, the chapter is unbeta'd, but I did read over it myself and was (for the most part) pretty satisfied with the end result, so I am going ahead and posting it. I did FIND a beta, though, and once she is done reading over both the prologue and this chapter, I'll update accordingly.
> 
> Kudos, bookmarks, shares, and comments are all appreciated! It's the little things that help fuel a writer's muse!
> 
> You can find me at Tumblr @ [Megalohdon](http://megalohdon.tumblr.com/) and Twitter @ [Megalohdon](http://twitter.com/megalohdon/). 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! (And for being patient, lordy be).

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Thanks for reading! As (briefly) explained in the tags, this is, what I call, my Passengers AU. Granted, while the movie itself inspired this work and some elements of the story, this AU will not be super close to the Passengers plot and will NOT have the plot points in the movie that made it kind of very gross. I like to think of this AU as a happy creative child of Passengers, Wall-E, and Titanic. 
> 
> While this story takes place in the future, there are a lot of things in this universe that keeps a similar stance as it would in modern times. Earth is evolved, but not enough so that everything has changed. 
> 
> As a side note, gliders!
> 
> It's hard to really settle down and explain what gliders are in the fic while still making it seem interesting, but gliders are essentially anti-gravity performers. Think of them similarly to acrobats. They perform in arenas with transparent anti gravity chambers where in which they perform their routines. Their costumes are actually bodysuits that have lightstrips embedded into them in shapes of varying designs that light up during the performance, since most gliders perform in the dark/extremely low light. Think of like, if you shoved a body suit and a tron suit together, you'd get the general effect of a glider costume. This is the AU's equivalent of figure skating.  
> Viktor is 30 years old in this AU too, so he is 100% retired for good now.  
> Overseers are coaches!  
> Cuffs are bands that are snapped onto each wrist and ankle to help the gliders propel through the chamber while the gravity is turned off. This helps them maneuver around and perform, as well as get back down to the arena floor safely before the gravity turns back on. This is why Yuuri's malfunctioning was a big deal.
> 
> Yuuri WILL eventually seek help for his anxiety in this fic, that's part of the development he'll see going forward. Don't worry!
> 
> I have a lot of headcanons for this AU and, for the most part, have it laid out! If you have questions, just ask me :)
> 
> Comments, kudos, and shares are super appreciated! This fic is unbeta'd for now, so if you see any problems please let me know, and if you'd be interested in helping me beta this work, that'd be super fabulous too!
> 
> ALSO: My other two YOI fics are on permanent hiatus. I'm currently dealing with pretty severe health issues that got in the way of consistent updates before with the other two, and I lost the muse to finish their series. This one I have mapped out and will pace myself. This prologue is shorter, but expect 10K+ word chapters from here on out! I will try to keep a regular schedule if at all possible, and will have chapter one out later this week.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @ [Megalohdon](http://megalohdon.tumblr.com/) and on Twitter @ [Megalohdon](https://twitter.com/megalohdon).


End file.
